Visions of the Same Sky
by Kaesteranya
Summary: Flash fiction/drabbles and other general pieces for the different members of the cast, be they Vongola or otherwise -- all of them are either sad, introspective or serious in nature. For the crack counterpart, look at Postcards from the Famiglia.
1. Her head, that oven

**Look for the one with her head in the oven**

_Theme date: July 21, 2007._

_Set in the TYL Universe, right after the 10__th__ has been buried._

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It would have been easy to tell him that it hadn't been his fault. Words weren't always reliable, but they were not hard to find and sometimes all too simple to string together, for the desired effect and feeling… even someone like her was sure to find the right thing to say, most especially at a time such as that one, because succeeding meant saving a life. Other people had saved complete strangers from jumping in front of trains/free-falling from bridges/shooting themselves in the head/hanging themselves up in their bathrooms armed with nothing but words. She and Hayato were related. It would work out somehow, because despite it all she cared. She could fix him.

All it took was the sight of her brother out in the rains on his hands and knees before the 10th's tombstone for Bianchi to know that nothing she or anyone ever said or did could stop Gokudera Hayato from breaking apart.


	2. Sometimes when the wrappings fall

**Sometimes when the wrappings fall, there's nothing underneath at all.**

_Theme date: March 27, 2007._

_Set in the TYL universe, right after TYL!Tsuna's death._

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The first things Yamamoto noted when he awoke were the blinding brilliance of the lampposts and the snowflakes drifting about — snow, in the middle of summer. The sensation of bone-wracking pain in nearly every part of his body followed afterward.

"Don't move around. You're broken in several places."

"Heh. Fancy that, huh?"

Yamamoto knew that he should've been worried when Hibari didn't scoff at him. The older guardian was kneeling by his stretcher, looking like he had just walked out of the gates of Hell. His tonfa, the fangs that the Cloud Guardian was known for, lay some distance away. They were completely covered in blood.

"Why is it snowing—"

"That isn't snow. That's from the mansion."

Hibari turned away. Yamamoto suddenly remembered what he had been doing before the blast had knocked him out.

"Where are the others?"

"Around."

That answer was dishearteningly vague, and Yamamoto would have pushed for something more had he not felt the tremble of Hibari's hand from where it was on his one uninjured arm. The Rain Guardian looked on, silently, as Hibari's fists clenched.

"…I came too late. He's gone."

That night, even with the depth of his own loss to deal with, Yamamoto could do nothing but hold Hibari's hand and pretend that he couldn't see the other guardian crying.


	3. The anatomy of a Minotaur

**The anatomy of a Minotaur**.

_Title taken from the 31 Days theme for December 19, 2005. Originally found in one of the fanfiction/writing memes I did on my LJ._

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People never believed it when they saw him: Yamamoto Takeshi, Rain Guardian of the Vongola Family, second only to Hibari Kyouya and Reborn on the body count. He was the tall, friendly one with a smile too wide for his age group and a laugh that echoed a little too loudly down the mansion's hallways. His hair was kind of goofy and he was a bit of a baseball freak. To the casual mafia man, there did not seem to be a threatening bone in Yamamoto's body.

It was only afterward, in the gun smoke and fire of the battlefield or in the dingy alleyways of Italy, where they could catch, if the were lucky, a brief glimpse of that ever-smiling Yamamoto cutting a man in half with his sword the way their moms took knifes to butter, that they realized what being the Rain Guardian was all about.


	4. Collecting memories in a rainbow pot

**Collecting memories in a rainbow pot.**

_Title taken from the 31 Days theme for December 12, 2007. Set sometime in the future, before things start falling apart for the Vongola Family._

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"Tenth!"

Tsuyanoshi Sawada turned at that familiar voice, taking his eyes away from the sky and returning to a vision of sunlit forest and lush grass. Hayato Gokudera's figure cut out a tall silhouette from the scenery, pasting black cotton, white flannel and leather against the blues and greens of summer.

"Everything is ready now, sir. Shall we return to the estate?"

"Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea."

Gokudera smiled; he stepped aside and bowed low, to let Tsuna move past him. Vongola's mid-range specialist was the quiet, reassuring presence just at Tsuna's shoulder as the young mafia boss followed the meandering forest path back to civilization. The past few years had had transformed him from a troubled youth with too much energy into the one Guardian of them all whom Tsuna could truly trust with everything. He had grown tall and proud in the service of the family, throwing himself into his tasks in a way that none of the other guardians came close to replicating, but some of his bad habits (smoking too much, prioritizing family and Tsuna over his own health) hadn't really changed.

"Well, there we go… we were just about to send a search party out for you two!"

"Are you implying that I'm incapable of protecting the Tenth?!"

"Come on, Hayato, you know I'd never think of it that way!"

The trashy glitz and dirty glory of the underworld had never managed to put a dent in Takeshi Yamamoto's spirit, preserving that same wide grin and infectious laugh that Tsuna remembered seeing and hearing throughout high school. He found it eerie sometimes, how Yamamoto could flirt with the pretty maids among the staff (or with the other Guardians) in one hour and decapitate enemies of the family in the next with nothing on the mind but the thought of coming home to a good dinner, but if there was anything that Tsuna had come to realize, it was that Yamamoto was on a league all on his own, inseparable from the team but always his own man in his own world.

"I still think that this is a complete waste of time."

"You're so cute when you're upset, Kyouya"

"Do not test my patience, Cavallone."

Dino Cavallone flashed Tsuna an apologetic smile as he came forward, trailed by the second drifter among Tsuna's six Guardians. Where others had grown up and filled out, Kyouya Hibari had bled down to the barest essentials in skill, grace and viciousness, retaining that same, supple and almost willowy build ideal for a fighter who specialized in lightning speed and quick, crushing blows. Hibari had been raw back then, Tsuna now realized, proud and uncompromising and utterly alone. Dino had stayed when others would have given up, and smoothed things out for Hibari, convincing him that perfection could not be found in complete solitude. Distance, however, was what Tsuna had promised Hibari in return for his services, and the Vongola Family head made sure to let the Cloud Guardian walk wherever he willed. That they crossed paths occasionally was enough for Tsuna to know that they were comrades fighting for the same ideals.

"OH! It's THAT time already?"

Ryohei Sasegawa came jogging over from the mansion; the boxer clasped hands with Yamamoto, grinned at Gokudera and nodded towards Hibari and Dino. He took up the other vacant spot at Tsuna's shoulder, and nearly sent his boss sprawling with a thump to his back. "You're a genius, little brother," he boomed with a hearty laugh, "getting us all together for a family picture and all! It's been a while since the last one!"

"Um, yeah…" Tsuna straightened up, trying not to wince. He wasn't sure when he would finally get used to Ryohei calling him 'brother' – it had only been a year since he and Kyoko had gotten engaged, but he had declared his intentions to marry Kyoko after high school. Ryohei, to his surprise, had taken the news with great joy, and had proceeded to treat Tsuna as family since that moment.

"Whoa. Almost everyone's here."

Lambo Bovino ambled over with his hands in his pockets and that glazed, almost bored look in his eyes that Tsuna knew him best for. The boy joined the group with a big yawn and an even bigger stretch, earning him a disapproving looks from Gokudera and Hibari. Getting up in the morning had only seemed more and more like an epic effort for the boy ever since he and Reborn had started sharing one bed. "I wanna go back to sleep," Lambo mumbled, squinting at nowhere in particular. His words drew Tsuna out of his thoughts, and away from some rather disturbing images of his former mentor and the toddler than he used to bathe and take to the bathroom doing strange things to each other. "Let's take the picture already…"

"Not yet!" Yamamoto cut in. "We're still waiting for—"

"Sorry for taking so long. I'm here now."

Chrome approached the group with a polite cough: the girl had, for once, taken a cue from the other guardians and worn the suit and tie and color of her ring rather than the military green and knee-high boots favored by her other half. She offered a small, nervous smile at Tsuna before joining Hibari – the pair proceeded to talk in low voices, with occasional, cheerful interjections from Dino. Tsuna had not been the first to question the strangeness of their relationship, given the fact that Hibari and Mukuro seemed interested in nothing beyond killing each other whenever they were in the same room. He wondered if Dino had something to do with it.

Lambo yawned again, drawing Tsuna's attention. "NOW can we take the picture, Futa?" the boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Okay, okay Tsuna-nii and company, look over here, please!"

Futa stood in front of the congregation, armed with a big, black and almost intimidating-looking camera: it was one of the few times where Tsuna had seen the younger man without his book of statistics close at hand. Futa fussed over the group for a good, long while, shuffling them into position with wild gestures of his hands and barked instructions. Five full minutes passed before he was completely satisfied, and he lifted the camera to his eyes.

"All right… smile, everyone!"


	5. In fire and in blood

**In fire and in blood.**

_Another strange image written while (__RPing smex__) bugging people on Plurk. This is set exactly ten years after the story. The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for June 24, 2006._

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"You're late."

Yamamoto Takeshi tells himself that he really should've expected that. He laughs a bit, lifts his eyes from his shoes, smiles. Gokudera Hayato, though, is already turning, walking away from him. Ten years down the line and he still moves the way he did back in middle school: quick, restless, brimming with too much unused energy. It'll smooth out later, when they're fighting.

It's a scene out of one of those cheap action flicks that Squalo Superbi likes to bring over whenever he's bored: weather-worn wharfs, dingy warehouses, starless sky, jellyfish moon, backdrop of a city too old to be clean but too young to be special. With their expensive suits and designer shoes, one would think that they didn't belong there. People in this city, however, know the truth.

Yamamoto does not like to think before missions, but he finds himself doing that a lot these days. He could not remember the last time his mind had been clear: it must have been a few years back, during his last game in the professional circuit, against a driving wind and a high autumn sky. He's been fighting too long now, in the dead of night between claustrophobic alleyways.

Just ahead of him, Gokudera is picking up the pace, tossing his cigarette, reaching into his suit, pressing the seal of a ring to a tiny little box. Yamamoto takes this as his cue to move. One glance, and they're off in separate directions. He sees a flash through the corner of his eye and hears a low, sibilant growl just as he disappears around the next corner. Tomorrow, the couriers are going to come around and wonder if someone brought in a wild tiger to rip the guts out of those men up front. It wasn't too far-fetched: strange things occurred in their city, and they knew better than to ask too many questions to the wrong people.

Yamamoto feels himself smile again. He feels around for the box in his pocket, runs his fingers over the grooves. It will be soon.

He knows that something's not quite right the moment he steps in through the back: it's too tense, too quiet, and there's blood streaking the walls. He hesitates, then he looks at the stains again and sees a pattern, a rhythm to the way that people had died in there. A moment later he hears a bone-wrenching scream, followed by a sound similar to that of a blunt object smashing a watermelon open, and then silence. Two steps take him past the cargo boxes and out into the open, where Hibari Kyouya is moving, throwing a guy face-first into a wall by the sheer force of his strike, leaving a crimson splatter and dented concrete in his wake.

It's vaguely fascinating, watching the former prefect fight. The guys against him, they're about as human to him as those practice dummies Yamamoto cuts up regularly whenever he's home for the weekend. Hibari doesn't seem to move around them in as much as he seems to move _through_ them, turning them into obstructions that he's out to dismantle, or spring boards through which he can reach the next obstacle and take it apart. _Everything can be used as a weapon_: a common lesson, but it seems as though the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola was the only man who ever got it right.

Yamamoto fingers the box in his pocket again, then pulls his hand away. He leans against the wall, watching Hibari pop a man's knee out, or spray a goon with his comrade's bullets by swinging them into each other.

Might as well enjoy the show.

"So you've finally learned to stay out of my way, haven't you?"

And Hibari's coming towards him now, tonfa slick with another's blood, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve. He stares right at Yamamoto, acknowledging him; a marked difference from their younger years. Yamamoto grins.

"Thanks for coming. We didn't think you'd make it—"

"—much less steal our kills. Do you _always _have to waltz in here, you freak?"

And Gokudera has entered the scene, three bombs short of a set and looking mightily pissed. Uni seems to share his master's sentiments from where he's curled about Gokudera's legs. Hibari dismisses the tonfa with a careless gesture, eyeing the Storm Guardian with his trademark disdain.

"I do what I want."

That's not entirely true, Yamamoto is tempted to point out. The Tenth had asked Hibari to come. Of course, the Rain Guardian knows better than to push his luck, not with this one, not with Gokudera looking like he's going to toss protocol out the window and take Hibari on.

"Well, we're done here!" he says instead, with his usual easy smile. "And just in time for dinner too. The boss will be expecting us."

It amuses him, how one mention of Sawada Tsuyanoshi is enough to diffuse the situation and catch their attention. Yamamoto often takes the opportunity to tease Gokudera about this whenever they're alone together, or in bed. He does not bother doing it with Hibari: he's almost certain that he gets an earful on the matter from Dino Cavallone as it is.

"Hurry it up, Takeshi, we're done here."

And somehow, Yamamoto's alone in the warehouse – Hibari's walking off and Gokudera is in the entrance, tapping his foot, leveling him with a glare. He's framed against the city lights: they catch the gleam of his piercings, just so.

Yamamoto laughs again and obeys. He'll deal with his lover's moods later.


	6. The private wound is the deepest

**The private wound is deepest.**

_The title for this is taken from the 31 Days theme for January 27, 2008. This is probably set WAY into the future – at LEAST 15-20 years, to be exact._

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Gokudera Hayato knew that it was going to be one of those nights the moment Yamamoto Takeshi suddenly decides to close shop early. Gokudera, however, is not the same person he used to be more than a decade ago (keywords being "explosive" and "brat"), he manages to keep himself in check. Hence, once they finish going over the books and find themselves staring at each other from across their kitchen table, Gokudera does not feel compelled to set some part of Yamamoto (or maybe _all_ of Yamamoto) on fire, or blow Yamamoto to kingdom come. The man – sometimes manager of a chain of successful sushi bars across Italy, and always and ever the Storm Guardian of the Vongola – merely sweeps their books off the table, stands up and leaves the kitchen. He turns back, just on the brink of entering their private rooms behind the store, and pierces the other Guardian with a look.

"I hope you learn how to fuck yourself for tonight."

Yamamoto winces a bit at Gokudera's departure: funds are short and that door's old and their joint can only take so much Hayato-abuse within a given time period. Still, the Rain Guardian has more pressing matters to attend to now, one of them being the tall, thin shadow in the doorway of his restaurant, silhouetted by streetlights and the light, misty curtains of spring rain. He offers it a congenial smile.

"I suppose you'll want some tea, then?"

The shadow snorts and slips inside, walking into the light.

Hibari Kyouya has not filled out over the years. He has shot up and bled down to the barest essentials in muscle, skin & bone – the better to move fast, strike hard and flow on towards the next target, leaving nothing behind. Yamamoto, however, does not think of these things. All he sees are gaunt cheeks, painfully thin wrists, brief glimpses of bandages beneath expensive clothes and a pair of startling blue eyes staring out at him, seeing him, seeing _through_ him. Even he has trouble holding that gaze, and there is much more between him and Hibari than there is between Hibari and any of the other guardians, or even between Hibari and the Vongola Tenth himself.

Those eyes are on Yamamoto's back as he heats up some water, fetches the green tin can from under the sink. Yamamoto wills himself not to notice.

"Here."

Yamamoto slips into the seat on the other side of the counter, right in front of his old friend. Hibari peers at the contents with some disdain before sipping it once, tentatively. A moment later, the Cloud Guardian makes a face.

"…You're never going to learn how to brew this properly, are you?"

Yamamoto chuckles. Hibari ends up drinking down the whole cup anyway, and asking for another with no words and an ambiguous gesture that no one else in the family would've caught had they been in Yamamoto's place. They do not speak. The clock on the wall ticks off the seconds, then the minutes, then one full hour.

"It was Nico's birthday today," Hibari finally says, sometime past eleven PM.

"I know," Yamamoto replies, from over the dishes. "He's growing up to be a fine, young man, isn't he?" Nico is Dino Cavallone's eldest son. He is the first of three children.

"Yeah."

"He has his father's laugh."

"And his mother's eyes."

Hibari looks down at his cup. He does not need to say anything else.

It's sunrise by the time Yamamoto crawls into bed. Gokudera does not push him away when he reaches out for him. Both of them know that somehow, in spite of everything, they were the lucky ones in the end.


	7. Clouds of witness

**Clouds of witness.**

_Written for the word prompt "bird" over at the KHR Fic Meme. Title taken from the 31 Days theme for October 4, 2007. Special thanks to Nikki for doing the REAL archiving for all of us~_

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"_Young master?"_

As Dino Cavallone set about to train Hibari Kyouya with the single-minded determination that men of his family were known best for, Romario found himself thinking back to the strangest things. They were strange not because they were insignificant (far from it, actually), but strange because of the timing, the less obvious coincidences. On off-days, when Dino was busy with paperwork and poking at the dark circles under his eyes, Romario remembered the series of unfortunate events that led to Signore Cavallone dying and his son being dragged in to fit his very large shoes. On all the other days, when Dino was kicking the shit out of Hibari/getting the living daylights beaten out of him by Hibari/dragging Hibari around/forcing Hibari out of his shell with smiles or threats, Romario remembered the night after Dino's Trial, after the blond crybaby became the Bucking Horse.

"_Young master, it's still too early for you to be up. Why don't you go to back to bed?"_

"_In a minute, Romario."_

He had not cried after the trial, had only stood in front of the mirror with pursed lips and deadened eyes and bandaged fingers mindlessly tracing the whorls and curves of the tattoos on his neck and arm. He had smiled for everyone who approached him during the celebratory dinner, smiled even after he had stepped out from an explosive run-in with Squalo Superbi involving verbal abuse, a strike across his face and a friendship buried for years to come. Romario, however, found him that day at 3 AM, still awake and up at the windowsill, watching the rain.

Romario remembered wondering, at that point, why his boss had looked so small and broken that morning, when just two days before that he had been standing tall in the midst of hundreds of bodies, all smileless lips and burning eyes and iron resolve.

"_...Would you like some warm milk?"_

"_I think I'd prefer coffee. I'll have to work soon anyway."_

It had disturbed him that night, the way Dino had smiled at him – it was almost like the gesture of a captive creature who had only just realized that it was locked in a cage. He had not known that it would be just that same smile that the young man would carry for the rest of his years.

"_Do you think I'll be able to travel someday?"_

"_Of course, young master."_

"_But I'm always going to have to come back here, aren't I?"_

"_Young master, are you all right?"_

"…_Of course I am, Romario. Of course."_

Romario remembered that night because of those words. Dino echoed them back to him now, at present, whenever Romario caught him looking at Hibari like he was seeing himself, struggling to break free from something that he could never escape from.

There were days when Romario was greatly tempted to tell Reborn and Iemitsu that both of them had an incredibly sick sense of humor and an unhealthy obsession for repeating the past. The man always ended up holding his peace instead, and remaining in place, watching his boss beat a Cloud Guardian out of a boy.


	8. Crossing swords

**Crossing swords**

_This was written for the word prompt "intelligence", and it serves as my very sad attempt to give 10018 some sort of semi-canonical encounter. It takes place sometime during the period where Hibari's supposedly out of Japan before he turns up to rescue Yamamoto and Gokudera from Gamma._

_The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for March 19, 2008._

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They meet on the battlefield of a different sort, one that Hibari absolutely deplores and Byakuran is only too comfortable in: the lobby of a hotel rumored to be the spot of many trade-offs between the Foundation and its business partners in the past. Suffice to say, those meetings had come to a complete stop the moment the Millefiore had bought the place out and Byakuran himself had taken to occupying the table that Foundation members – or more accurately, the Foundation's leader – used to sit on whenever he was in the area. The silver-haired man is there at that moment, gaze on the terraced gardens and pools in the middle of the hotel compound, steadily working his way through the bowl of gourmet marshmallows set in front of him. Exactly fifteen minutes pass before he feels a slight shift in the air (a disturbance, brought about by small and quiet wings), and he looks away from the scenery to discover that he is no longer alone.

"Restore this hotel and withdraw your men, or I'll bite you to death."

"Have a marshmallow first."

Hibari Kyouya feels no need to adhere to any sense of protocol and proper breeding and could therefore attack him without a moment's thought, but somehow, Byakuran only cares enough to allow himself to be amused by that, and the fact that in the end, in spite of all the words and the looks, he knows that Hibari is not going to do it. Wild as he appeared to be to most, the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola was a smart man – he would only move when it was time for him to do so. Byakuran has deliberately set things up to make sure that things were somewhere between far too late and a little too soon.

"You know," Byakuran remarks in a voice that's closer to a purr more than anything else, "that bird of yours ruins your image. It's hard to be intimidated by a man with a soft spot for fluffy woodland creatures." He sets his gaze on the yellow fluffball perched on Hibari's shoulder and pretends not notice the way the man bristles up, in a gesture very much akin to what was rumored to be his box animal of choice.

"Don't mock me."

"Mock you? I'm merely stating a fact. Anyway, you really should try one of these. They're very good."

Byakuran reaches over, fishing out another marshmallow from the bowl and squeezing it briefly between two fingers before eating it whole. Hibari's eyes – shadowed and narrowed and blue – watch his every move.

"I can destroy every last one of you."

"You're welcome to try."

A gamble, based on a bare assumption and a series of seemingly unconnected events and observations. Byakuran is rather fond of gambling – risk is the only real source of entertainment that he can get his hands on, given the fact that he is forced to meticulously plan everything else. He takes a perverse amount of pleasure in throwing his hand and coming off on top in the end, and in noting, through their small gestures and their occasional silence, how his opponents had to admit defeat and let go. The higher up they were, the better the thrill, and there weren't a lot of people as high up as Hibari Kyouya was.

By the time members of the White Spell have heard of the security breach and come around to protect their leader from one very vicious Cloud Guardian, Hibari is turning, rising from his seat, shouldering past the men crowding him in order to take his leave. Byakuran only shakes his head when the commander of the squadron brandishes his weapon and sends him an inquiring look. He figures that he can afford to let Hibari walk away and leave the hotel alive. It was bound to make things infinitely more interesting for him in the future.


	9. Felony and knighthood

**Felony is a gift to men who have everything to lose.**

_Written for the word prompt "knights" over at the KHR Fic Meme – kinda really spoilerific, especially for the TYL Arc and Chapters 210 onwards. The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for March 20, 2008. Special thanks to Nikki for doing the REAL archiving for all of us~_

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**I.**

The ring is heavy on his finger, and it bites into the flesh of his skin every time he so much as holds his cue stick a little tighter than usual or grips at the handle of a gun. Her name is on it, even if it's the crest of the Giglionero that is carved on the inside. It is for that reason that he welcomes the weight and the memories they carry. It reminds him of what needs to be done, if he's ever going to see that brilliant smile or feel those small arms wrap around his neck again.

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**II.**

He knows, now, what it is like to kneel before a god and feel, too keenly, one's own mortality, to know that powers greater than yourself hold your life within their hands. He respects power precisely because he has only so much of it, even after carving a name for himself on the bodies of his previous enemies. Byakuran is power, and power makes the laws that the world dances to. So he will bow his head and kill his heart and follow him, up to heaven, straight to hell.

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**III.**

He smokes a whole pack of cigarettes at the Tenth's grave, apologizing to the deaf ears of the body in that coffin every time he lights one up. _I'm sorry, Tenth, the smell must bother you. I'm sorry, Tenth, I know I told you I'd cut down._ He is weak and his hands are made of splinters; he knows this now, because he failed to hold on to the one thing – the one person – that mattered to him the most. When the wish stick burns out, his will to move burns out with it. It's only later, much later, that he drags himself to his feet and stumbles home, back to his plans and his possibilities, back to plotting out vengeance for the young man that he decided he'd give all that he was to, one hot Japanese day.

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**IV.**

He watches the Storm Guardian of the Vongola from the shadows of the trees because it is better than staring at that coffin and knowing just who is lying in there, amidst the white and sweetness of graveyard lilies. He knows something that the Storm Guardian and the Rain Guardian and all the rest of them do not, and the weight of the knowledge presses down on his shoulders, distinct and suffocating against his chest. He hates being tied down, hates the fact that even after death, that one person can still tell him exactly what it is that he must do and rest easy in knowing that he will do it, no matter how much he says that he won't. He leaves as Gokudera smokes through the last cigarette in his pack. He has work to do.


	10. The justice of my quarrel

**The justice of my quarrel.**

_This one takes place somewhere in the middle part of the TYL arc. If you don't know who Spanner is, then this is most definitely riddled with spoilers. orz Also: the title for this fic is taken from the 31 Days theme for February 6, 2008._

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The last test that they took ended in failure, with Spanner clicking his tongue at the unreliable data it had yielded and his guinea pig of the moment flat on its back, trying to remember how to breathe properly without hurting himself. Spanner, of course, did not notice a thing outside of his lollipop and the fact that the test did not meet up with his standards – the blond engineer eventually glanced away from his screen, eyes instantly singling out the boneless heap of boy on the floor of his hideout.

"Get up and try that again."

"S… Spanner-san, I-I really don't think—"

A sudden pause, following by some wheezing and a violent bout of coughing. Sawada Tsuyanoshi tried to get up, and ended up flat on his stomach rather than his back. Spanner lifted an eyebrow at the scrawny boy, unimpressed by the pitiful fuss that he was making.

"You don't think what?"

More wheezing and coughing. Spanner's other eyebrow traveled into his hairline – he stood up with a sigh, and crossed to the other side of the room. He returned with a towel and a bottle of water, squatted down in front of Tsuna, and used the bottle in his hand to rap the Vongola not-so-lightly on the forehead.

"Drink this and get up. We have to hurry."

"…Sorry."

But Spanner did not seem to hear him – the man had stood up again, returning to his work station. Tsuna eventually gathered enough strength in his limbs to push himself up and do as his captor told him to. The boy rocked back on his heels, twisting the cap of the bottle off and taking a generous gulp of its contents. He could not recall a time when something as plain as water had tasted so sweet. A few gulps later, and he was observing Spanner from a distance, as he had come to do more and more often as of late.

Beyond the fact that Spanner liked lollipops and seemed like he was going to stop at nothing to beat the perfect X-Burner out of his prisoner, Tsuna really could not tell what sort of person Spanner was, or why he was doing what he was doing. Granted, it had only been a few hours since they met (read: since they fought and Tsuna got knocked out and woke up in handcuffs in Spanner's hideout) and Tsuna wasn't exactly good at reading people. From what little that he _did _know, however, Tsuna figured that Spanner was definitely a strange one.

"If you've got the time to stare at me, Vongola, you ought to get up and prep for the next test."

"A-ah! Sorry!"

Spanner, predictably, did not answer, leaving Tsuna to blush and scramble to his feet. The boy re-assumed his original position, forcing his tired limbs back into the stance that he needed in order to fire the X-Burner correctly. He really couldn't tell if they were going anywhere with all of those tests, and it wasn't as if Spanner was open about his plans for him, and—

"It's not just about your weapon."

"Eh?" Tsuna automatically turned to look in Spanner's direction, only to freeze the moment he noticed the unimpressed expression on the man's face.

"Eyes forward, Vongola." Spanner waited until Tsuna had dutifully turned away before typing again. "Maybe I'm doing this for other reasons too," the blond eventually said, just as Tsuna started charging up. His voice was nearly lost to the roar of the Dying Will flames cloaking Tsuna's fists and marking the boy's forehead, and the future Tenth of the Vongola Family was a little too preoccupied with keeping his own balance to ask what the blond engineer met. He forgot about it later, when Iris – a squadron leader from the White Spell – crashed into their hideout.

(Tsuna only remembered it much later, when they finally came face-to-face with the round machine and Irie Shouichi and it seemed as though Spanner could do nothing but stare at the young man before them with a funny sort of look in his eyes that Tsuna had never seen on anyone else before.)


	11. There's no end to the rock n' roll

**There'll be no end to the rock 'n roll.**

_Written for the word prompt "firecrackers" over at the KHR Fic Meme. Title is taken from the 31 Days theme for August 16, 2007. Special thanks to Nikki for doing the REAL archiving for all of us~_

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Gokudera Hayato does not walk in with a plan. This is because he is 100% certain of the fact that regardless of the situation – regardless of the odds and ends and possibilities – he will make things work out for himself once he is on the battlefield, smoking his cigarettes, dropping his bombs.

What Gokudera _does_ walk in with, however, is his favorite song of the moment, from so and so classical composer because no one but them got the rhythm of symphony – of the world – as right as anyone else. He loops the song throughout his thoughts as he fights, timing each explosion with every beautiful crescendo, and every step to the beat of the score. He is a silver-haired manifesto in violence, turning the world on its head one stick of dynamite at a time.


	12. And a sky so blue it'll eat you alive

…**and a sky so blue that it'll eat you alive.**

_Written for the word prompt "sky" over at the KHR Fic Meme, and spoilerific for the TYL arc – the title is taken from the 31 Days theme for April 5, 2008. Special thanks to Nikki for doing the REAL archiving for all of us~_

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It has been a long time since she had gone out to that place – she figured she would've looked funny to anyone who might have been watching him. See a woman drive all the way down a road that ends unceremoniously in a field bleeding green out towards the sea. See her get out of her car, walk somewhere near the middle of the field right between the road and the shoreline. See her fall, just fall, flat on her back, with the trench coat and the car keys and everything else.

Lal Mirch stretched her arms out to her sides, running her palms over the blades of grass as the wish seeds, displaced by her landing, floating up among the clouds and pockets of sky. Daisies tickled her face with their petals whenever the wind swept in from the ocean; salt and earth were the only things she could smell. Sometime later, there were footsteps, the scent of crushed green, and then a Colonello-shaped hole cut the sun and some of the clouds out of the sky above her.

"You sure picked a weird place to take a nap, _kora_."

"Show some respect, soldier, and stop blocking my light."

Colonello laughed. The man plopped down beside her a moment afterward, drawing one knee up into his arms and stretching the other out towards the distant echo of waves and the cries of seagulls. Above them, the clouds continued spinning themselves into airborne picture books.

"Some bad news came in earlier, _kora_. Skull's passed on."

"I know."

The wind picked up, sending wish seeds everywhere. The sea was reflected in Colonello's eyes.

"I'm going to protect you, _kora_. We'll pull through this together."

He was radiant in the sunlight, so bright it made Lal Mirch want to turn away. She did not, however, and her hand snaked out, slipping into his.

"Don't make promises that you might not be able to keep."

They did not leave the field until sunset, and when they moved, they moved together. Close to two weeks later, on the morning of his funeral, Lal Mirch returned to the field and its wish seeds, to consign her tears to the daisies and the sea.


End file.
